


The Pointed End

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Biting, Consensual Choking, F/M, Inspired by the D23 Trailer, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Rey flexes on Kylo and he rlly likes it, Rough fucking, Ruminations on the nature of the Force, both attempt to out-top the other, fucking on the death star, p in v, space philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 18:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20440790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Is it wrong,” she snarled, thrusting her hand forward, using the Force to pin his hands at his sides. “When the wolf consumes a lamb?”“No,” Kylo breathed, his eyes wide and dilated, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His sabre still throbbed at his side, and the clouds still hung low, seemingly close enough to touch, and once more they reflected the colors of their sabres.Rey let her blade fall silent, stalking closer to her prey. “It’s life,” she told him, using her free hand to grip his chin, forcing his face towards her. He wasn’t wiggling anymore, and his sabre had been deactivated, too.“The Force is life,” she said quietly, staring into the dark pools of his eyes. “Life in all its complexities. There is death there, and despair, but also generosity and softness and spring.”OR: The one where Rey and Kylo fight aboard the wreckage of the death star, discuss the meaning of the Force, and fuck each other like someone is keeping score.





	The Pointed End

“You don’t understand!” he shouted over the crashing roar of the waves. 

Rey hissed into the rain and ocean spray, not feeling the stinging cold of the water or the precarious rocking of the Death Star wreckage beneath them. Rey’s pulse thrummed in her ears, a primitive tattoo that every living being had heard since time dawned and the universe exploded in the white-hot heat of creation. She was half surprised that the rain didn’t sizzle off her like it did her sabre, glowing heart-of-flame blue at her side. 

“I understand  _ plenty,” _ she snarled, advancing on her black-clad quarry. 

How often had she heard that phrase over the last year? “ _ You don’t understand, that planet sided with the Empire during Vader’s war,”  _ or,  _ “You’ve never watched your family die, Rey,”  _ or,  _ “Oh, well you’ve never had to deal with the politics, you wouldn’t understand.”  _

Her friends had equated inexperience with ignorance, and she’d ignored each slight, had worked to stay positive and keep the spark of the Resistance alive. The spark was burning now, a fire that would absorb all the remaining oxygen and fizzle away to ashes or conquer all that stood before it. 

“You’re the one that doesn’t understand,” she said, spinning her lightsaber beside her, the blue light refracting off the water in the air in a crystalline shower that looked like falling sparks. “ _ You’re  _ the one who’s always thought that you had to do everything alone. You had to train alone, had to carry the Force alone, had to solve your problems alone.”

He’d been backed as far as he could go, his huge framed balanced on a jut of durasteel that fragmented into the frothing, unforgiving deeps. “I’m the one he wants,” said Kylo, his hair plastered to his head, only highlighting the hard angles of his nose and cheekbones and jaw. “It’s my mistake to rectify.”

Rey lunged for him, an overhand blow that he parried easily, the clashing sabres reflecting into the heavy cloud cover with purple-tinged light. “This is for  _ all of us  _ to do _ , _ ” she growled, swinging again. Once more Kylo blocked the blow, the barely-contained bleeding crystal of his sabre whining under the strain. 

“Look at yourself,” he shouted, locking blades with her and shoving. Rey’s feet slipped a few inches back on the slick durasteel, and she gnashed her teeth at him, her jaw clenched. With the light of his lightsaber pouring over her face, it looked like she had blood in her eyes. 

“Just look- you turn from the Light at every opportunity; you reach for power wherever you can find it.”

Rey spun out of their deadlocked hold, finding momentum in her pirouette, and lunged up at him again, thrusting towards his heart in a blow he barely dodged. 

“There is no dark side,” she roared, swinging for him again. They’d been linked for a year; a year of sudden visions and feelings, a year of connection that he was studiously ignoring.  _ Let the past die  _ he’d said. He should listen to his own advice. 

Kylo thrust out a black-gloved hand, skidding her back several feet, keeping himself out of the range of her sabre. 

“Of  _ course  _ there’s a dark side,” he said, his left hand swiping his soaking wet hair back from his face. He was pale, but his jaw was set and his eyes were hot. “My family has always been prey for the dark side, has always given into the power-”

Rey couldn’t tell if she was crying with frustration: her face couldn’t get any wetter, and all she could taste was salt and exasperation. Her sabre hummed in sympathy, and she knew how this was going to go: he wouldn’t listen to her. He wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t see reason: she’d have to force him to see. 

“No,” she said quietly, that one word nearly inaudible over the wind and thunder and crashing sea. “No.”

She inhaled, a slow breath through her nose-

And for the space between one heartbeat and the next, everything was still. They were balanced on the precipice of a cliff, on the knife-edge of belief and control and hope, and she was going to topple them over it. 

Rey exhaled, all of her doubt and fear and worry leaching away from her like the tide from the shore. Leia had told her that a moment would come when she  _ just knew.  _

Here she was, battling Leia’s son aboard the wreckage of his grandfather’s great folly. Here she was, and Rey just  _ knew.  _

“Is this what you fear?” she asked Kylo, flinging her arms wide. 

The scene changed. 

No longer were they standing on the Death Star. They were back on Starkiller base, back in the forest where Kylo’s blood had stained the snow. Rey didn’t look down at herself, but she could feel the changed folds of clothing, and could see the blood-red saber pulsing at her side. 

Kylo’s eyes widened, and he faltered back one step, and then two, his sabre whining at his side. “How- how are you doing this?” he asked. 

Rey could feel the power rippling inside her and settling around her like a harness. It was a heavy load, but it was manageable, the strain no more than she could carry. 

Luke, Palpatine, Vader, they’d all been right about one thing: fear was the way to the dark side. 

_ Fear of yourself.  _

Rey wasn’t afraid of what she could do anymore. She wasn’t afraid of the Force, or her destiny, or the role she had to play. She was Rey of Jakku, she was  _ no one,  _ and she would see this war brought to a final end. Where Anakin and Luke and Kylo had failed, she would not. 

“This should kill you,” Kylo whispered. It was an echo of something he’d said to her over a year ago, and then, as now, he’d been afraid  _ for  _ her. 

“It won’t,” said Rey, snapping open the double-bladed sith saber that purred by her side. “You offered to have me rule with you,” she said, spinning the saber meditatively. The light blurred, a red wheel spinning in front of her, and when she abruptly stopped all her movements Kylo took another step away from her. “Was this what you wanted?”

Kylo shook his head. “I was wrong,” he said, his adam’s apple bobbing like a lost ship in a turbulent sea. “It- it was your light that I coveted for myself.”

Rey smiled, the corner of her mouth turned up in a sly little smirk, and then the scene shifted once more. They were on Jakku, and Rey was back in the desert, and his TIE fighter was running her down again. 

Once more she was dressed all in startling white: not the cream color that passed for white in dusty, dirty places. No, this was snow-white, sclera-white, bride-white. The shock and confusion on his face was gratifying: she was hope-bright, razor sharp, and powerful enough to cast a heat-shadow on everything in her vicinity. He wanted that for himself, wanted her near him because her brilliance could shine into all of the dark and sheltered places in his soul. (She’d spent her life alone and unwanted. She knew how it felt to yearn to be seen.)

“I don’t understand,” said Kylo. He was so out of place here, out among the earth tones and the sand-scored hills of the topography around them. He was all dark strength and hard angles; he was uncompromising in a changing world. 

“I know,” said Rey. “That’s why I’m showing you.”

“You said there isn’t any light or dark,” said Kylo. “Yet that’s all you’ve shown me.”

“No,” said Rey easily. The TIE fighter flew  _ through  _ them, though neither the ship nor the sand-cloud following in its wake touched them. “I’ve shown you the Force.”

Kylo slowly shook his head, never taking his eyes off her. 

Around the edges, the scene was shimmering like a mirage. 

“Every living thing,” said Rey abruptly. “That’s what the Force is. It’s the energy of every living thing. And energy is matter, and it cannot be created or destroyed. It’s  _ all energy,  _ Ben. It’s what you do with it that matters, it’s what you want and  _ why  _ you want it.”

“I-”

The scene changed and they were back where they’d started, back on the rocking exo-hull of the Death Star, back in the driving rain and pounding surf and once more their sabers were back to their normal colors. Rey rushed Kylo before he’d found his footing again, her blade thrumming and sure. 

“Is it evil when a hawk kills a mouse?” she asked, her blade whirling. 

Kylo lost a step, but blocked the blow. “No,” he said, blinking the rain out of his eyes. “But-”

“Is it good when a tree rots into the soil?” she asked. “Does it make the tree worthy?” She swung again, in rapid succession, and once more only his muscle memory pushed her back. 

“No, but-”

“And is it  _ wrong,”  _ she snarled, thrusting her hand forward, using the Force to pin his hands at his sides. “When the wolf consumes a lamb?”

“No,” Kylo breathed, his eyes wide and dilated, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His sabre still throbbed at his side, and the clouds still hung low, seemingly close enough to touch, and once more they reflected the colors of their sabres. 

Rey let her blade fall silent, stalking closer to her prey. “It’s life,” she told him, using her free hand to grip his chin, forcing his face towards her. He wasn’t wiggling anymore, and his sabre had been deactivated, too. 

“The Force is life,” she said quietly, staring into the dark pools of his eyes. “Life in all its complexities. There is death there, and despair, but also generosity and softness and spring.”

She let her thumb drift over the skin of his jaw in a gentle caress. “If you’re afraid of life, and all the possibilities that lie  _ within you,  _ you taint it. That’s where darkness comes from. It’s like saying that… that gravity is evil.”

She wasn’t holding him in place any longer, yet he still stood so quietly before her, his pulse a rapid flutter in his throat, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath feathering over her lips. “Gravity just  _ is,  _ Ben,” she told him. “It’s not gravity’s fault if you crash a ship, it’s yours. It isn’t the Force’s fault if you do bad things. That’s your fault, too.”

He swallowed hard, and Rey was so tempted to lower her hand, to feel the bob of his throat beneath her palm. “That’s the thing,” she told him. “People can be forgiven. Once you accept that it’s just…  _ you _ , and how much you dare? You can do anything.”

“But-”

Rey was  _ so tired  _ of hearing that word. Levering up on her toes she kept her grip on his chin, grabbed a handful of soaking, silky hair, and kissed him. 

Like the fairy-tale princes of planets long gone, her kiss seemed to wake Kylo from his spell. His hands slid to her waist, and then one broad, gloved palm traveled the muscled groove of her spine to her nape, and then into her hair. He yanked her hair, jerking her head back so that her face was tipped up and more available for kissing. In retaliation Rey bit his lip, laughing into his mouth when he gasped. He gave as good as he got: the hand still on her waist was tight enough to bruise. (Rey hoped she’d wear his bruises, hoped that she’d be able to see the story of her victory pooling under her skin.) 

She’d spent, what? An hour in his physical presence? Two, maybe? And yet over the last year she’d spent what felt like months thinking about his lips. They were soft and pink in a face that was otherwise constructed of harsh contrasts. He kissed like he wanted to consume her, and Rey pressed herself closer to him, enjoying the broad strength of his body. This game was more fun with a worthy partner. 

It was only the rocking of the ship that broke them apart. A wave had crashed over the deck, showering them in salt spray and setting the wreckage to tilting again. Both Rey and Ben were panting hard, scrambling for footing on the slippery deck, and then… Rey had an idea. 

It was the work of a second to slice through the durasteel hull, and Ben’s surprised face was the last thing she saw before she dragged him through the hole and into darkness. 

The inside of the ship was musty, and the creaking of the long-suffering frame echoed strangely as the ship was buffered by waves. Rey had suspected that trapped air pockets like these were part of what was keeping the ship afloat, and she’d been right. She fell half on top of Ben, and it was only too easy to straddle him fully, her knees bracketing the hard curve of his ribcage, and kiss him again. 

He kissed her back, plunging his fingers into her now-unbound hair, pulling on the heavy wet locks. It made her pull against the pressure to reach his lips, a delicious pleasure-pain pricking through her scalp, and she ground her hips against him in response. 

Ben rolled, causing them to slide down the curve of what had once been a wall. Neither of them were focused on this, the tomb of the Emperor’s hopes and ambitions, the scene of Vader’s defeat. Snapped wiring and scattered holo components rolled and dangled as they scrabbled at each other, pushing for dominance and pulling to be closer. 

“Hold still!” Kylo said, pushing to his feet and slamming Rey back against the sharp angle of a duralloy support beam. With the odd angle of the ship and the recline of the beam, it was like being in his interrogation chair all over again: cool steel against her back, the hulk of a black-clad creature in front of her, the gloom of dark-side surroundings. This time, though, Rey didn’t want to get away. She wanted to be closer: seamed together bodily the way their psyche’s had been bleeding together for more than a year. 

“No,” said Rey, clawing at the heavy belt that held his tunic close to his body. “I need this.”

One of Kylo’s heavy hands closed around her throat, his thumb and first finger gripping her behind the ears, directly under her jaw. Rey wiggled, enjoying the fight, her blood humming with the violence of arousal, her thoughts swooping pink-tinged and giddy from a lack of oxygen. Like this, surrounded by death and fighting for pleasure, she felt more alive than she had for the past year. 

She could feel Kylo’s huge fingers scrabbling at the waistband of her trousers and for a moment Rey let herself float: she could taste the heat of Kylo’s desperation, could hear the creaking of the ship over the hummingbird flutter of her own heartbeat, could feel cold steel at her back and Kylo’s heat along her front. It was the perfect moment of suspension: light and dark, cold and hot, want and need. This was the inevitable site of their joining- here, at the junction of their pasts and future. Here, in the cool, shadowed grey. 

Kylo had her pants almost off, now. One of the white capri legs was inside out and snagged on the boots she still wore, but Rey didn’t care. She’d had her moment of passivity. This whole tearing, white-hot moment had started because Rey was proving a point, and it was a lesson Kylo still had to learn. 

She turned her head, her tendons twanging against Kylo’s tight hold, and sank her teeth into the flesh of his forearm. 

His fingers loosened, but didn’t let go. That didn’t matter: Rey had tasted blood, and she was a predator, too. She rolled, throwing her weight down in a move that Kylo hadn’t anticipated, and used her own momentum to rise again by his side. He pivoted, but she’d already ducked, hooking one of her ankles around Ben’s and yanking him down. 

Kylo recovered before he could hit the ground, using a core strength that Rey both envied and lusted after to right himself and lunge for  _ her.  _

Rey grinned at him.  _ This  _ was a dance she knew. She hadn’t known the Kashyyyk lanskvj, hadn’t known the Alderaanian promenades or the syncopated two-steps of the outer worlds, but this? Rey had been raised in the valley of death. With the reaper she’d danced every day. This wasn’t a death dance, though. This was… this was summer chasing winter; the stomp of bare feet around a roaring fire; drums in the distance; the clash of sea and stone. This dance was built into humanity’s bones, and Rey was an expert. 

“Do you see yet?” she asked. 

Kylo didn’t answer. Rey smiled, wondering if he could see his own blood on her teeth. He’d understand eventually: predator and prey, light and dark. It was all a part of the whole. 

“I want you,” he told her, ignoring her question. 

“Then come get me,” said Rey, dancing backwards and into darkness. 

Ben lunged, feinting one way and grabbing in the other. Rey laughed, the sound younger and free of a lifetime of trauma. Ben laughed too, baring his teeth right back at her, his eyes glittering in the near-total darkness of the Death Star. 

“Caught you,” he said, his voice a low rasp, and then he did, his hands closing around her. 

Rey didn’t mind. When he pivoted on his heel, slamming her back against what had once been a wall or floor or desk, she didn’t wince. Rey wrapped her thighs around his waist and hugged him into her, letting her head fall to the side as Kylo sucked bruises into the skin of her neck. She needed him, needed him like she needed her next breath, and the same need seemed to be humming along Kylo’s skin like heat lightning on the horizon. He was scrabbling at his trousers, loosening his belt and working his cock free, all the while grazing his teeth over the silk-thin skin of her throat. 

When he sank into her, hot and hard, Rey hissed, her eyes locked on his.  _ This  _ was who she was: she was the angry, feral child who still ached with abandonment. She was the woman in white, willing to fight the darkness for the sake of the galaxy. She was tempted by the darkness and blinded by the light, and she  _ hated him  _ and _ she loved him. _

“Rey-” he said, sounding half-strangled. 

She braced her hands on his shoulders and slid up, almost off of his cock, and then dropped home again, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone. Their panted breaths and the soft, damp sucking of their joining echoed into the dark ship; a countermelody to the storm of waves echoing against the hull. 

Kylo’s fingers were digging into the skin of her thighs where he held her, the black gloves impossibly cool against her skin, and still Rey wanted to be  _ closer.  _ She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, shifting her center of gravity so that Kylo had to hold her hips. He widened his stance and they swayed together, like trees in a gale, and then Kylo’s fhands were gripping her and he was fucking her onto his cock, back and forth and back and forth. Rey clenched around him on every downstroke, enjoying the heaviness and stretch of him, and Kylo groaned, the sound low and animal in his throat. 

“Ben,” she said, turning her face to press her cheek to his. They were sweaty, and she licked at his temple, tasting him. “Ben,” she said again, her voice throaty and sex-wrecked. “It’s  _ us.  _ It’s ...everything, all together, all the time.”

He grunted a response, and Rey continued. “It isn’t a weakness, not like the Jedi thought. And passion isn’t strength. Fuck the Sith.”

“You are,” was Kylo’s strangled reply. 

Rey barked a laugh, though it ended in a moan as the muscles in her belly drew tighter and tighter, her cunt dampening and her need spiking higher. 

“How do you explain my grandfather?” Ben asked, backing her against the wall again. With the steel taking some of her weight he slid a hand between them, his blunt fingers unerringly finding her clit. 

Rey jolted, cracking her head into the wall. “It was fearful love. Scared for himself that he’d be alone.”

Her sentences were choppy, and Rey’s world was beginning to fade to pleasure around the edges. “Accept it,” she told Ben, gripping a handful of his hair and tipping his head back, pressing her lips to his. “Everyone was wrong.”

When she came, and orgasm seeped control from her muscles and steadiness from her bones, only Kylo’s body pressing her into the wall kept Rey upright. 

“Look at me,” said Rey, still shaking in his arms. She pulled his face to her again, made him look her in the eye as his face went pinched and flushed with pleasure. “You don’t have to be good, or evil, or anyone’s person but your own. I’m nobody from nowhere. We’re just ourselves, just the motivations we choose. The power is in us, Ben, because it  _ is  _ us.”

He shut his eyes and Rey let his hair go, burying her face in his neck as he shook in her arms, his body bucking hard against hers. She has won this fight, and could be generous in her victory.

They didn’t speak as they fixed their clothing and found their weapons and stepped back into the rain. They didn’t need to. 

They’d walked onto the Death Star as nominal enemies, the light fighting the dark, each convinced the other couldn’t be allowed to win. They left irrevocably changed: baptised by the grey. They would face the Emperor together, they would complete the task that generations of Jedi had begun and failed to finish. The Force was energy as love was energy: it was the potential to create change, for better or worse. It was something that could be shared, but never created or destroyed. 

Energy just  _ was.  _ The Force just  _ was.  _ And so were they. 

**Author's Note:**

> While we all *know* that this isn't how it's going to go in IX, I like to pretend that this could happen if Star Wars was produced by HBO. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Of all the fandoms in all the towns in all the world, I'm glad I walked into this one. 
> 
> <3 [Casey](https://twitter.com/caseydoesfandom)


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